The Week From Hell
by FrankieRaye
Summary: Another Martha Wayne fic, wherin Marti gets caught up in an elaborate plot for revenge. Or has she truly crossed the line this time? Featuring Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman. Revised and completed. Finally.
1. Day Three

This fic makes numerous references to the back story found in the first series of Martha fics I wrote. If you care, you can find that under "The Martha Wayne Chronicles" on my stories page.

Yes, she's probably a Mary Sue. This earned some complaints the first time around, so here's a warning to people who might find it annoying and wish to complain: Just click the back button on your browser right now and go back the way you came.

Thanks to Joe for helping me work out some of the plotholes. Also, thanks to Ranger and Muse who had to suffer through the past few days of my being in obsessive fic mode.

End of introduction. Thank you.

* * *

Day Three

"You've gone far enough." The voice the Dark Knight was addressing her in was colder than it had been in a long time. Surveying the still-smouldering destruction that had only yesterday been a small military research facility a few miles outside of Gotham City, Desdemona couldn't quite blame him.

Mid-climb on a high fence surrounding the property, she didn't have to look over her shoulder to know that he was a scant few feet behind her, hidden in the shadows of the forest. She'd never make it over the top, and he seemed in a mood to ensure that she'd regret it if she tried. Letting go of the fence, she dropped to the ground, her hands raised slightly, and turned to face him. It was a somewhat comical gesture, coming from her.

"Shouldn't have returned to the scene of the crime, huh?" The lengthy, silent glower was more effective on her than any interrogation would have been, and he well knew it. What he didn't know was that the young woman had reached her breaking point twenty-four hours ago. "I… I didn't mean for things to go this far," she whispered.

"Hnh," came the not-amused, skeptical reply. Batman shifted forward, a stray beam of moonlight through the trees glinting off the wire substance of the bolas in his hand.

"What he means to say," came a younger voice from the other side of the fence, "Is that the whole Vulcan Nerve-Grip act on the sidekick wasn't a point in your favor." Robin paused, then more formally said, "The original tapes are missing, too."

"Of course they are," she muttered over her shoulder.

"And likely erased by now," Batman finished, stalking forwards another step.

Desdemona nodded in mute agreement, and let a small bauble drop from her fingertips. There was a misdirecting hiss of smoke before it exploded with a blinding flash of light. She knew the polarized lenses of their masks would neutralize the worst of it, but she was hoping it would buy her a few moments head-start, and that was all she needed.

Not that running would do her any good.

Not that she had anywhere to run.


	2. Day Four

Day Four

            "The studio's lease has been transferred to a Ms Veronica Hamilton, sir. I spoke with Ms Hamilton briefly. She claimed to have been approached by a solicitor by the name of Kevin Grant two days ago, and informed that the studio had been left to her by a former school mate. Ms Hamilton said she has no memory of a Martina Kyle, but that being in rather dire straights at the time, she had no intention of looking a gift horse in the mouth…"

            "I see. Thank you, Alfred."

            "Not at all, sir. Is there anything else I can do?"

            "I don't think so."

            "Then I shall return home."

            Back in the Batcave in front of the computer, Tim Drake ran his fingers across the console, adding the new data to the search already in progress. After a few moments, he remarked, "For an Amazon from a place with no 'net access, Desi left quite a long, thorough paper trail." He glanced over at his mentor, who loomed a few feet away at another console, working on his own inquiry.

            "Desdemona wasn't raised on Themyscira," Batman commented after a few moments. He hadn't yet informed Robin of Desdemona's origins, and he still saw no need to fill in all the blanks.

            "How is it you know that, but still have me chasing fake paper trails?"

            "I don't need to know where she's been, Robin. I need to know where she'll go next."

            "Does an official death certificate count as a valid dead end?"

            "No."

            "Didn't think so…"


	3. Day Five

Day Five

Outside the sweeping glass windows of the JLA Satellite's observation deck, a multitude of stars shone bright, unfettered by the atmosphere and smog. Wonder Woman's blue gaze was fixed on that dark void, and not on the cowled man hovering behind her. "She has not returned to Themyscira." There was a paused, and the Amazon princess added, "And yes, I would."

"What?"

"Tell you if she had."

Batman uttered what was probably his first sound of amusement in four days as Diana moved in front of the monitors she was supposed to be watching.

"Truth be told, Bruce – she cannot return to Themyscira." Sensing that she'd actually managed to surprise him, she turned to face him. "When Hippolyta allowed her to re-enter the Patriarch's world in search of the missing Idol, it was a test. When she chose to remain, instead of returning to the island… it was the first step down the dark path that was Seen for her when she arrived." Diana half closed her eyes, a faint, not-truly-amused smile resting on her lips. "Not that Prophecies mean anything to you…"

"They don't. But all the same, explain."

"She is intended to become an Avatar for Ares. If, as you say, she has killed…"

"Another sign on the path to destruction?" he asked, not entirely skeptically.

"Yes."

"Is Desdemona aware of this 'prophecy'?"

"I don't think so. But she is your –" Diana cut that statement off, turning back to the monitor as Superman strode into the room.

From the look on his face, he had heard at least some part of the conversation. "Desdemona?" His tone was one of more than just passing curiosity, and it drew a mildly interested look from Batman. "I knew she was one of yours, Diana, but I didn't know you knew her as well, Batman… Is she in some kind of trouble?"


	4. Day Six

Day Six

            "I thought you would have learned your lesson the last time you got mixed up with Luthor."

            Desdemona sighed at the shadow that had emerged from the motel room's tiny bathroom, and tossed her mask onto the dingy bed. She wasn't too far in flopping down behind it. Nothing in her arsenal would enable her to escape the Man of Steel. She figured she might as well get comfortable, and settled on the pillows.

            "You did know I wasn't serious when I suggested you 'try Gotham'?"

            "How far behind you is he?"

            "A phone-call yet to be made."

            Giving him a slightly confused look, she muttered, "Go on, then. You've got me cornered."

            "I'm still waiting for you to pull a piece of Kryptonite out of your utility belt," he replied, crossing his arms over his chest, placing more of an emphasis on the mention of her belt than on the dredging up of past histories wherein she'd tried to kill him.

            "Believe it or not, I'm not actually kicking myself for deciding against saving a chip before I turned it over."

            "I didn't think you would be." Superman paused, then moved out of the shadow, standing at the end of the bed. "Would you like to tell me your side of the story? I've heard everyone else's."

            Gazing up at him for a moment, the young woman murmured, "What is it with you?"

            "I have an odd fascination with uncovering the entirety of a story."

            After nearly a minute of silence in the room, she sat up again, dropping her hands into her lap. "It's not a story with a happy ending."

            "Has it ended?"

            "Pen's in your hands now, big guy."

            "Then start from the beginning so I can get it all down."


	5. Day One

Day One

"You must leave this place immediately," murmured the glimmer of white and gold at the corner of her vision.

"I'm sorry – what?"

"I can say no more. Please. I am your friend. Heed my warning…"

"Hermes…" Desdemona furrowed her masked brow, her eyes on the dark corner of the city that she was patrolling. "Running isn't my style. You know that."

"If you think on it, you will find it is."

"Look," she snapped, suddenly cranky, "If you want something from me, spit it out. Otherwise – get lost."

The flicker sighed, and then flitted off into the night sky.

* * *

"I should have listened. But that's hindsight for you. He was right, of course. I should have left. And running… well I guess that is my style... It turns out that maybe there's a lot about my style I didn't know…"

"Go on."

"There were a few dead kids that had turned up over the past week… Runaways, street kids… No one that would be missed by anyone 'important'. Fingerprint-covered paraphernalia found with the bodies. The cops wrote them off as drug overdose, case closed-and-lost under a stack of more important paperwork."

"And you suspected differently?"

"Not at first…"

* * *

Red and blue flashed rhythmically across the alley walls, cut off by a bulky fire escape before it could fall on the black-clad form perched on the edge of the roof watching the scene below where a pair of police officers loomed over the body of a blonde teenage boy.

"Looks like another one, Steve."

Lieutenant Steven Richardson sighed. "Any ID? No? Of course not."

"His name was Daniel."

Startled, the cops glanced towards the sound of the voice. "You…" Richardson breathed, more than a little surprised. He quickly covered the expression with a scowl. "Finally decide it was time for us to meet face to face?"

Swinging over the edge of the roof, Desdemona caught onto the fire escape railing and swung the rest of the way down to the ground, landing in a crouch. "I would have preferred different circumstances."

"Whoa. Steve… You know her?"

"Yes. No. Those tips I couldn't explain? They came from her. Look, Chris… give me a couple minutes, okay?"

"Sure. I'll be in the car. Calling the coroner."

Watching his partner back away, Richardson frowned a little. "Why me?"

"I needed a friend in the department."

"That's not an answer…"

"It's not the answer you wanted."

Steve stared slightly, then smirked. "I suppose I was expecting something about being the only one you could trust…"

"You watch too much TV."

"Probably." His smirk faded. "Do you know anything about this?"

"I know Daniel wasn't into shooting up." She paused. "And I know you're going to make sure the coroner does a full blood workup on him."

"What makes you say that?"

A grapple-gun was produced from under her heavy coat and fired into the sky, yanking her airborne as she said, "Because you're the only one I can trust."

* * *

"I checked in with Richardson at the end of the night… The chemicals they found in Daniel's blood didn't match up with what was in the needle they found in his hand." Desdemona lowered her voice. "They closed the case anyway. Confiscated the paperwork. Warned Richardson to drop it. He practically hung up on me."

"How did you know Daniel?"

"He was a source of information," she murmured and then sighed, admitting, "He was a friend…"

"Just a friend?"

"I wasn't boffing him, if that's what you're looking for," she snapped.

"Sorry. I didn't mean…"

"Yes you did."

"All right. I did." Superman shifted slightly. "What happened next?"

"I put in some overtime while the sun was up. Asked some questions. Knocked a few heads together till I got a name. Doctor Holtz. I tracked him to his labs at Hensbrid."


	6. Day Two

Day Two

The base was nearly empty. Desdemona moved swiftly down the corridors towards the south wing where the private research labs were. Nearly there, she was intercepted by a small handful of guards. In the process of fighting them off, she felt something dig into her neck, its soft fabric one of the few vulnerable spots in her costume. The world started to spin. Reaching up, her fingers curled around the end of a dart. The spinning world went black.

"When I came to, I was in the woods. Covered in dust and a little scorched… The entire south wing looked like someone had dropped a bomb on it."

"You don't remember anything before that."

"Convenient, isn't it," she muttered sarcastically.

"And the dart?"

"Gone." She glanced at him eyeing her neck, and picked her mask up off the bed, tossing it to him. "Puncture's gone too. I heal fast. My mask… not so much."

"Keep going," he suggested quietly.

"I could hear the sirens. The place was about to be crawling with cops and the fire department. I was in no condition to try sneaking around with the blue boys en masse. And the sun was starting to show. So I found someplace quiet, and eavesdropped on the police channels. That's how I found out about the security tapes…"

* * *

"Uncle Sam is refusing to turn over the tapes, Commissioner," Harvey Bullock growled. "Just a copy."

James Gordon tilted the phone away from his mouth and sighed tiredly. "Somehow that's the least of my concerns. It's fine, Harvey." Hanging up the phone, the commissioner found he wasn't all that startled by the shadow that drifted out of the others in his office. "Shouldn't you be at Hensbrid?"

"Not just yet."

"I know she's one of yours, Batman, but –"

"She's not one of mine."

"But you want a copy of the tapes regardless," the commissioner finished, and then waved him off, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I'll leave them on my…" Opening his eyes, he found Batman gone, his office curtains stirring lightly in the breeze.

"……. Desk."

* * *

"I borrowed a uniform and slipped into the GCPD evidence locker to get a look at the tapes. There were only two – I'd been careful to avoid the security systems…" Her voice dropped. "It turns out that I didn't go down after I got nailed with the dart…"

* * *

The black-clad figure sidestepped into view of the camera, her scuffle with the guards making it unavoidable. After a few moments of struggle, her hand jerked to her neck, and a few moments after that, she dropped to her knees, out of view of the camera again. Two of the guards advanced on her, only to jump back again as she lunged into view once more.

Sitting in the police evidence locker, officer Desdemona narrowed her eyes on the screen. The moves, it was all her style. It was her. She watched in a mix of fascination and horror as she took out the guards and stormed into Holtz' lab, where the not-so-good doctor was still at work. There was a brief verbal confrontation before things turned violent. And then turned fatal.

Flicking off the player, she didn't need to watch herself tamper with the lab equipment to know what came next.

* * *

"I don't remember much of the next couple hours…" she said, her voice having become choked. "Not in the same way I don't remember any of… that," she added, hurriedly, "Just that… Shock, I guess. It's like everything that followed happened at once… I stripped my apartment of anything that screamed 'a vigilante lived here'. Didn't take long. I learned a long time ago never to unpack anything important…"

"Hello?"

"I'm trying to reach Veronica Hamilton…"

"This is she…"

"Good afternoon, Ms Hamilton. My name is Kevin Grant. I'm an attorney out of Gotham city. I'm settling the estates of one of my clients, and you were listed to receive a part of it."

"I… don't understand. I don't really know anyone in Gotham…"

"You did attend South Glen high school?"

"Yes. Yes I did… senior year…"

"One of your classmates, Martina Kyle, left you a piece of property here in the city…"

* * *

"Just like that."

"You have to understand, Superman – I haven't had anyone to watch my back in years. I had about fifteen back-up plans in place in case I needed to disappear quickly… All I had to do was fax the paperwork and get scarce. Plenty of places in Gotham to do that while I decided what to do next…"


	7. Day Three, Revisited

Day Three, Earlier.

A quick examination of the shelves in the security room showed that the original tapes were missing. Her insane return to Hensbrid was for nothing. Angrily, she took a swipe at the tapes still on that shelf, scattering across the floor. Exhaling, she moved across to the security consoles, ejecting the tapes.

"You really have lost it," an almost cheery voice from behind remarked. "Aren't you Amazons supposed to be _silent_ hunters?"

Turning, a series of blows was exchanged between them. For once, she found she couldn't keep up her end of the witty banter.

"Your performance at the police station this morning was much more impressive. We almost didn't figure out how you'd gotten in and stolen the tapes."

"What?" Her startled question was answered with a kick that didn't quite miss her jaw. Feeling the pressure now, she tried to return it. There was a brief, almost vicious scuffle before Desdemona managed to deliver a strike to his neck that dropped him. "Sorry, Robin," she murmured, lowering his unconscious body to the ground.

* * *

"Someone must have nabbed the tapes after I'd been there..." Desdemona shook her head. "No evidence… no witnesses… Technically… there was nothing they could do to me. Everything had become heresay."

"And you had nothing to do with it."

"It's an awful elaborate setup," she remarked, her sarcasm self-directed this time.

"If you suspected it a set up, why did you run from Batman?"

She laughed harshly. "Conditioning."

"I'm sorry?"

"Never mind." Sighing, she let her head fall forward into her hands. "Even if he'd looked like he was in the mood to listen to tall tales… I wasn't in the mood to talk. Fight, or flight… Hermes was right. I'm a runner."

"Why come to Metropolis?"

"It was a last ditch effort, Superman. I came to find the one person that had the reason and resources to set me up like that."

"Luthor."

"I'm hardly worth Luthor's time. I stole a few files and failed to complete a mission. He's got bigger fish to fry…"

"Then who?"

"Mercy."

Superman didn't reply immediately. "Do you have any proof?"

"This is what we call grasping at straws." Desdemona laughed again, miserably. "Batman was right. I belong in Arkham."

"Just what is your connection to Batman?" he asked softly. "You said before that you came from another dimension…"

"I…" She looked over at him for a several long moments. "I grew up in Gotham."

"And just decided to copy his belt?"

"Like that's an odd thing? How many eight year-olds dress up as you on Halloween?"

"It's hardly the same thing."

"I know." She paused. "Do you believe me?"

"I'm needed elsewhere." Superman said after a moment, listening to something distant, though his eyes were still on her. "Are you going to run again?"

Desdemona stared into his eyes for a few long seconds, then whispered, "Yes."

The Man of Steel frowned, and then disappeared, leaving behind a forceful gust of wind as the door closed behind him.

* * *

"Did you get all of that?" Superman asked, soaring above Metropolis.

"Yes."

"She seemed to be telling the truth."

"She believed she was telling the truth. There's a difference."

"You think she's..."

"Unstable." Batman finished, without dancing around the point. "Hensbrid is a federally funded facility. It's possible that those tapes were passed on to a federal investigation department. It's also possible that she took them the night she killed Holtz."

"I can pay Mercy a visit…"

"I don't believe there's a need for that. Mercy is a lot of things, but a mastermind isn't one of them. Even if she had a reason to wish Desdemona extreme ill, she lacks the motivation to do anything about it. Especially anything this extreme."

Superman couldn't really argue that point. Mercy was the best of the good-little-soldiers. Her focus centered on Luthor. "What are you going to do?"

"Stop distracting you from tending to that robbery in progress," Batman said, and closed the channel.


	8. Day Seven

Day Seven

"Something I can help you with, Superman?"

"Tell me about Desdemona."

"I'm sorry. Who?" Looking up from her desk, Mercy faintly smiled at the Man of Steel who stood just inside the sweeping windows of Luthor's top-floor office reception area.

"You know who."

"It's all right, Mercy, answer the man's questions," Lex Luthor murmured cheerfully from the door of his office. "I heard this morning that she's wanted for murder… If there's anything we can do to help you bring her in, Superman, you need only ask."

"You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?" his gaze remained on Mercy, ignoring Luthor.

"If it truly is a set up, Superman, and you find out who did it… Tell me. I'd like to send them flowers."

"You had nothing to do with it."

"Nor did I, before you ask," Luthor piped in. "Now. If you're quite through harassing my secretary, I need some copies…"

Frowning more, Superman stepped back out the window.

* * *

"Good afternoon, sir. You have a package for Mister Wayne?"

The young delivery driver glanced down at the box and then looked back up to the well dressed Englishman standing in the doorway. "Uh. No sir. Package for an Alfred Pennyworth… Is this the right address?"  
His brow raised in slight surprise, Alfred signed for the package, carrying the small, heavy parcel inside. There was no return address, and the date on the identification sticker indicated it had been shipped this morning from a store downtown. There was a small card taped to the box. Peeling it off, he opened it.

_ If you could find someplace to stash these for a while, Alfred, I'd appreciate it. M._

Frowning further, he opened the box. In retrospect, the contents – a belt and pair of silvery bracelets – did not surprise him. The butler made his way downstairs. "Ah… Master Bruce? I do believe Miss Desdemona has done something drastic."

* * *

James Gordon waved reflexively at the officers and secretaries he passed on his way into his small office, a half-empty cup of gas station coffee in one hand, a collection of folders tucked under the other arm.

"Another sleepless night, eh, chief?" one of the younger officers commented with a grin.

"Don't make me promote you, Mahoney," he retorted groggily, stepping into his still-dark office. Dropping the folders onto his desk next to his coffee, he moved to the window, twisting open the blinds. When he turned around, he was startled to find a masked woman sitting there, watching him.

"Hello, Commissioner Gordon," she murmured, reaching up to tug off her mask. "My name is Desdemona. And I'm here to turn myself in."


End file.
